


Paper Planes

by LandMerman



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Adulting, Alexander Hamilton's A+ Parenting, Alexander Hamilton's Kids, Alexander Trying to be a Good Dad, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angelica Schuyler is Bisexual, Asexual Character, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Bisexual Male Character, Burr's Wife is Dead, Divorce, Drama with the in-laws, Extramarital Affairs, F/F, F/M, Family Dynamics, Family Issues, Father/Son Relationship Issues, Gay John Laurens, George Washington Wants None of Their Drama, George Washington is a Retired President, Georges Lafayette Goes to Harvard, High School, Historical Inaccuracy, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, I know nothing about theses people irl, I'm making this up as I go, John Laurens is an Awesome Gay Uncle, Lawyer Aaron Burr, Lawyer Alexander Hamilton, Lawyers, M/M, Minor Aaron Burr/Theodosia Prevost Burr, Modern Era, New York, Parenthood, Past Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Philip Hamilton Dates Theodosia Burr, Philip is in High School, Poor Life Choices, Post-Divorce, Single Parent Aaron Burr, Single Parents, Slice of Life, Teenage Drama, Teenage Rebellion, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-05 23:53:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14629668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandMerman/pseuds/LandMerman
Summary: A modern day setting involving historical figures from the late 18th century and early 19th century focusing primarily on Alexander Hamilton and his family wherein Eliza and Alexander get divorced following an affair with Maria Reynolds and Hamilton resigns as the Secretary of the Treasury after the scandal to move to New York to be closer to his kids and work as a lawyer. The story picks up (after the first chapter) in 2018 and focuses on a fumbling relationship between Alexander and his eldest son Philip who blames his father for basically everything wrong in his life.





	1. The Beginning of the End?

**Author's Note:**

> “I’m sorry, Eliza, and it’s over I swear. The whole thing was stupid, incredibly stupid,” his words are small paper planes that crash futilely against a brick wall, “and it isn’t going to happen again,” be careful how you fold if you want your plane to fly far, “I would never lie to you about this-”
> 
> “Don’t even start with me.”
> 
> An unhappy marriage leaves many clues behind, some obvious and others subtler. Philip reflects back on why he should have known his parents’ divorce was imminent and why it’s entirely unfair.

In retrospect it should have been obvious. The extra-long nights spent at the office, the growing stack of paperwork being brought home, the disappearing from family outings to take work calls, the overall diminished family time… all which lead to the hushed arguments at midnight that floated down the hall on delicate wings with an ominous subtlety, the pointed looks across the table when yet another family breakfast or dinner was skipped for this meeting or that one, his mother’s quick and quiet tears in the small half-bath under the stairs during his twelfth birthday before she pulled herself together and put on the perfectly practiced I’m-a-happy-politician’s-wife smile.

Really, it should have been obvious, but then again every kid wants to live in ignorance of his parent’s marital problems, perpetually living in a state of oblivious bliss where your biggest problems are that you hate school lunches on Wednesday (lettuce should not be slimy) and how you need to stop that awful George Eacker from telling the whole sixth grade about your crush on a certain Theodosia Burr… and so then you somehow end up in after school detention because the adults do not understand how punching a face that wants to be punched is not your fault. Being a kid is supposed to be easy, but it’s not when the adult world comes crashing full speed into an idyllic wonderland of inconsequential problems.

 

_“I just, I can’t deal with his right now.”_

_“I’m sorry, Eliza, and it’s over I swear. The whole thing was stupid, incredibly stupid,” his words are small paper planes that crash futilely against a brick wall, “and it isn’t going to happen again,” be careful how you fold if you want your plane to fly far, “I would never lie to you about this-”_

_“Don’t even start with me.”_

_Silence. “I-”_

_“I’m going to stay with my parents in Albany for a while… I’m bringing the kids.”_

_A pause. “How long?”_

_Another pause. “I don’t know.”_

 

Those few months spent in Albany in 2013 were hot and unfortunately humid, as summers were. Memories of warm nights spent playing pirates in the backwoods with the neighborhood kids and laughing at Angelica and little Alex being chased by angry geese intertwined neatly with those of heated phone calls, a day spent laughing with Grandpa and riding bikes with sticky ice cream fingers was inseparable from the knowledge that mom didn’t get out of bed that day, splashing around in the above ground pool and practically dying in front of the window AC unit while pulling damp clothing away from sweat drenched skin sat next to the memory of rushed ten minute phone calls with dad between meetings once a week or so. No matter how far you want to ride the denial train, the tracks end somewhere and Philip’s station came up.    

“Your dad and I are getting divorced.”

The words had hung in the air like a massive weight teetering on the edge of a skyscraper that no one dared to even think about breathing on for fear it would plummet to the earth. Philip focused on running his fingers on the blue fabric of the old couch that took up residence in the family sitting room. Push it one way and its darker than the other way, and you can write words or draw little faces on it. Angelica watched her feet with newfound interest, while little Alex sat still for once. They were all old enough to know what divorce meant. Their perfect family façade was dissolving into the horizon like a short lived mirage.

“We don’t want you to think this means we don’t love you,” their father started, “because we do love you all very much, and none of this is your fault. You can always talk to us about what you’re feeling at any time and we will be here to listen…”

He had a way with words, which he continued to spout, and soon couldn’t be heard over the ringing in Philips ears. How was any of this fair? It wasn’t supposed to end up like this, things had gotten better since that summer in Albany. The midnight arguments had stopped, there were no more silent battles fought with accusatory glances, no snide comments. Then again, there had been little to no conversation at all, no glances shared at all. His father was always at work, and when he wasn’t at work he was working at home. The home office lights were on when Philip went to bed, and when he woke up his father had already traded one office for another in the heart of D.C. His parents were programmed robots whenever their paths did cross, quietly gliding past one another, respecting each other’s space in professional and practiced ways. For two years, they were soulless inhabitants of the earth with nicely put together outfits and happy smiling faces at press events but dead, unfeeling eyes at home.

Nothing had gotten better, it was just packed neatly in a bottle and tossed under the rug for a later date. Maybe they all lived physically in the same house, but in reality his parents had been emotionally separated since that summer. And really, as far as Philip cared, there was one person at fault.

“Okay, yeah, you want to know how I feel?” Philip blurted, interrupting whatever his father was saying, something he didn’t actually want to hear, “maybe you love us, but you love your job so much more that your willing to loose us over it.” His mother gave him that look, eyebrows raised, eyes concerned, pleading with him not to say something he would regret, while his father made unwavering eye contact. “And don’t feed us the ‘it’s not your fault’ line, it’s fucking obvious whose fault all of this is!”

With that he had turned and left the room, ignoring the mess he left in his uncontrollable-teenager wake, ignoring the wide eyed stare from Angelica, ignoring the gentle but scolding tone his mother took as she called his name after him, ignoring her hushed comments of “he’s just upset” and “he doesn’t mean it.” He sat in his room, door locked, ignoring everything in the world. Willing it all away.

“We’ll get to have two houses with our own rooms,” Angelica later tried to comfort him, not entirely understanding the anguish Philip felt as his nicely taped together world was assaulted by an onslaught of adhesive-remover-rain. She couldn’t understand, because she didn’t remember a time when their parents had been genuinely happy. Her world had walls built of abject tolerance, an exterior decorated in false and empty happiness, and a foundation poured with a mix of betrayal and contempt. “Maybe dad will get a place with a pool, and we can finally have a dog. My friends with divorced parents get all the cool stuff, because basically they try and outdo each other to prove who the better parent is.”

But it’s not about a pool or a dog.

It’s a dead dream, a broken heart, and the begging to an end.


	2. On McDonalds and Condoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip Hamilton:  
> Hey dad, can you pick me up from school?
> 
> Philip never texted him. Unless he wanted something, which he very clearly did if he would ask Alexander to pick him up from school and not Eliza. Particularly when, checking the time, it was only 1:30 and school wouldn’t let out for another hour.
> 
>  
> 
> In which Alexander is a disaster of an adult/parent. Enjoy.

A few manila folders sat neatly on the corner of his large mahogany desk, waiting to be filled in a meticulously organized filling cabinet. Mrs. O’Leary was adamant that her will should have enough money was set aside for her children to happily live out the rest of their days under the watchful eye of her neighbor who would also be the executor of the funds left behind, seeing as Mrs. O’Leary’s children were three cats who shouldn’t be trusted to manage the money on their own for obvious cognitive deficits. The rest of her estate would be a generous donation to the shelter her children (she insisted on referring to them as such) were adopted from. To be sure everything would be followed thorough exactly how she wished and no loop holes would allow her son to get even a penny of her money (long story, which Alexander had listened to her tell a few times, as she had forgotten she’d told him already… or perhaps she just liked the sound of her own voice) she wanted a lawyer to be sure everything was in proper order, and such was Alexander’s job.

  
He sighed, typing away on his computer. The move to Albany had been unforeseen, and so it was simply easier to join an existing firm than to re-startup his own right away. Unfortunately, the only connection he had in Albany was, loosely and in an unfortunate way, through Aaron Burr. He was a man Hamilton’s ex-father-in-law, Philip Schuyler (who had been a long standing senator for the state of New York and had many influential governmental connections owing to his family’s far reaching history in the political arena), would probably have preferred as a son-in-law. The contempt ran deep, particularly after the 2010 election when Senator Schuyler had put his weight behind Aaron Burr for NY Senator, effectively nipping Alexander’s hopes of running in the bud. No one would stand much of a chance against a campaign fund as deep as the Mariana Trench with all the political force of several influential families backing it up to boot. Besides, what would it say about Alexander if he ran and his own father-in-law was backing another candidate? Yet, he had swallowed any disdain like bile in the back of his throat and asked then Senator Burr if he needed anyone to help run his practice, seeing as Alexander was moving to Albany and Burr would still be senator for at least another year with plans to run again (which Alexander was secretly pleased that run was lost after another big fish had unburied a past issue with retired Senator Schuyler, Aaron being stuck in the middle, a mere pawn in a decades old feud, without any provoking from Hamilton of course). Retribution tasted sweet, until it meant a defeated senator would be moving back to his home and his law practice to grace Alexander with his presence every insufferable day of the week.

A trilling ding and three short buzzes diverted Alexander from his ruminating. A green square with a white speech bubble appeared in the corner of the messages notification:

 **Philip Hamilton**  
Hey dad, can you pick me up from school?

Philip never texted him. Unless he wanted something, which he very clearly did if he would ask Alexander to pick him up from school and not Eliza. Particularly when, checking the time, it was only 1:30 and school wouldn’t let out for another hour.

 **Alexander Hamilton**  
What time?

 **Philip Hamilton**  
Could you get me now?

 **Alexander Hamilton**  
Don’t you have another class?

 **Philip Hamilton**  
Yeah you’ll have to sign me out at the office, but then we could get lunch?

Alexander knew the offer of spending time together was a ploy. It was hard to get Philip to do anything, much less with him. He had practically stopped coming over every other weekend when Alexander had custody, begging to spend time with this friend or that one, or claiming he had too much homework and could focus better in his room (he had his own room with Alexander, but Philip never called that his room or his home). Lunch was tempting, despite knowing it was offered in a deceptive manner and was not a genuine offer for connection.

 **Alexander Hamilton**  
Did you ask your mother if you can leave school early?

 **Philip Hamilton**  
I thought you were cool?

 **Alexander Hamilton**  
I am cool. It’s 65 degrees in here.

 **Philip Hamilton**  
Oh my god im embarrassed to know you

 **Alexander Hamilton**  
*God  
And don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.

 **Philip Hamilton**  
Are you picking me up or not?

He sighed, replacing the phone to its spot on the desk. Who cares if the only way to get his son to pay attention to him was through some attempt at avoiding something worse? Such was the desolate circumstances of his existence. Besides, weren’t all teenagers that way as it was? Consequently, he found himself collecting his car keys and phone, and knocking on the slightly open office door of one aforementioned Aaron Burr who motioned for one more moment before clicking the phone into the receiver.

Alex leaned on the door, propping it open further, “I’m going to head out for a late lunch.”

  
“Okay, I need you to look at something for me when you get back,” Aaron remarked, taking note of something on a legal pad.

  
“Of course.” Alexander backed out of the office, returning the door to its previous position. He’d noticed the way Aaron would always get up and return the door exactly how it had been if someone disturbed it and didn’t feel like messing with him right this moment.

 **Alexander Hamilton**  
I’m heading over now

 **Read** 1:42

Alexander stops by his office before leaving to grab a few files and he drops them softly on the small, less imposing desk right outside between the two enclosed offices. “Baker, could you make copies of these and file the two on the bottom.”

  
The young intern from Albany Law School, who still had a hopeful gleam in his eyes that wasn’t yet annihilated by the weight of the world, nodded, “yes, sir.” Someday he would look less optimistic and more rundown, or at least Alexander told himself that to avoid being irritated at the beaming youth who was oh so authentically eager to make copies of this file, or research that case. He had been that way once too, ambitious and with a fierce tenacity for life, but then life had punished him for his pride and he lost the struggle, landing firmly on his rear.

  
With that he was pushing open the tinted glass door of the firm, scornfully making note of the name adorned on it in nice white letters, taking the elevator down to the first level, exiting the structure and walking across the street under the raised projection of the building that was made for cars to drive underneath to the small parking lot where his dark blue 1976 Mustang was parked. At least he had one woman in his life that would never leave him, one good thing to bring joy into his mundane existence.

  
Old brick buildings passed by on both sides of the street next to a sprinkling of newer builds with sleek mirror finish windows reaching up to a gloomy clouded sky as Alexander drove down State St to where it intersected with Eagle St and, with many do not enter signs making it clear you have to turn, gave you the option of truing left or right, of which he did the latter. Eagle St quickly became Washington Ave as it curved around the New York State capitol building, it’s whitish-gray arched windows and Romanesque style architecture looking very imposing against the somber cast of the sky. After about 10 minutes he’d made it to Albany High School, parked, and was inside the office signing Philip out of school. He could hear Eliza lecturing him now about how he shouldn’t let Philip manipulate him so easily, how he shouldn’t just swoop in and bow to his beck and call with the naivety to think it would repair their relationship, and he was embarrassed to admit how much he wanted Eliza’s approval of him as a father to their son (because how can one not care about the endorsement of those they hold dear) as badly as he wanted Philip’s love.

  
“Hey,” Philip said when he walked into the administrative building a few minutes later, greeting the elder Hamilton who waited patiently in a plastic chair set against the wall, feeling much like a child awaiting the scolding of the principal. To avoid seeming excessively eager, he made sure to not stand up too quickly before the pair made their way to the parking lot, the smell of rain and damp pavement permeating the air. “Nice, you brought the Mustang,” Philip noted, getting in the passenger’s seat. Alexander smiled, God, he loved that car.

  
Sliding into the driver’s seat he asked, “Where do you want to go for lunch?”

  
“Wherever’s fine,” Philip replied nonchalantly, avoiding eye contact and gazing out the window.

  
“There’s McDonalds down the street,” he offered, considering fiscal responsibility above health, hoping the long term effects of a poor diet would kill him before becoming too costly as to outweigh the immediate outcome of saving money.

  
“I mean, yeah,” was the rather unimpressed response.

  
Alexander cleared his throat, “we could go somewhere else?”

  
“It’s whatever you want,” Philip checked his phone as the screen lit up, a slight smile crossing his face has he typed a response, probably to some other teen who should be paying attention in some class right now. The gear stick was slid into drive as Alexander pulled out of the parking spot and headed for cheap cardboard burger central. “Could we go to the pharmacy?” Philip asked, still messing with his iPhone.

  
“What are you going to eat at the pharmacy?”

  
Philip rolled his eyes, as if it was readily apparent, “no, to get something else.”

  
He knew this was really not about spending time with him, and he knew he was being used, but he also knew there were only so many ways this conversation was about to go. “And what is it that you want?”

  
Philip was quiet for a while, continuing to look down at his phone as they drove silently to McDonalds, absent mindedly scrolling through twitter, or whatever it was kids were looking at these days, “um, could you like buy me condoms?”

  
“I’m sorry, what?” was Alexander’s impulsive response. Thankfully they were stopped at a red light, otherwise they may have ended up driving through a building. But honestly, what else was at CVS besides chocolate, prescription drugs, and condoms? Would he prefer his son ask him to rob the pharmacy of Oxycodone? At least that might be less humiliating a conversation seeing as it was explicitly illegal and thus had an easy out.

  
“And like don’t tell mom.”

  
“Philip?”

  
“Please?”

  
He had a lot to say, but simultaneously nothing to say at all, or at least he wanted to say it all but his brain was having a small war with his mouth which refused to follow orders. “I… What…. Why do you…” was all that stammered out. It had been his job to have the talk, even though they had sex-ed in school, Eliza insisted that Alexander talk to his son about it, to which he silently argued to himself that he was clearly not the best role model for such matters. “I’m glad that you want to be safe, and that you’re comfortable talking with me about this,” it was clearly not comfortable, but at least he had started talking, or perhaps it was unfortunate he started talking because the dam was broken now and water only flows one way, “If you need a safe place to, um, you have a key to my apartment. And it’s not all about you, making sure the other person consents and is having a good time should be the first thing you think about, you want them to be happy, and it’s not all about the act, the lead-up is vital, foreplay is very importa-”

“Dad! Can we not?” His face was turning red.

  
“Uh, I can give you twenty dollars and you just get whatever you want.” Great job. Not awkward at all. A+ parenting right there.

  
“Yeah but I mean can you buy them?”

  
“Why?”

  
Philip finally looked at him, his head slightly sideways and eyes somewhat glaring as if to say it’s obvious

  
“Oh.” Because buying condoms as a seventeen-year-old was awkward, and buying them for your seventeen-year-old son was not, except for the small detail that it most certainly was. “If you’re not mature enough to buy condoms then maybe you shouldn’t have sex.” They arrived at the restaurant, and it was one small miracle they were both in one piece.

“It’s just for in case, and I’ve never bought them so I don’t know what to get.”

  
“And I’m the expert?” He shook his head, “don’t answer that… there’s some in my bathroom cabinet under the sink at home so just take some of those.”

  
“Wow dad, I don’t want to think about that,” Philip diverted his attention back to his phone, typing something into iMessages. Searching for some fresh air, Alexander opened the car door, stepping outside in the sprinkling afternoon, Philip followed a moment later, nose still buried in his phone. “Oh, and I failed my chemistry midterm… And you have to sign my test, I’m supposed to have that today in class otherwise they call home, only I’m here instead of class so can you sign my test and I can turn it in tomorrow?” It clicked into place what this was all about, a carefully planned diversion, make dad upset about something unrelated and then drop something else on him while he’s distracted.

  
“Does your mother know?” He’s not sure why he bothered to ask, what would the point of any of this be if she knew.

  
“Yes, dad, that’s why I asked you to pick me up from school and bring me to this crappy place, because mom was so happy I failed chemistry she thought you and I should have a celebratory lunch,” he never looked up from his phone, this conversation being a mild annoyance distracting him from the important on goings of whatever it was that went on in social media.

  
“Don’t have that attitude with me, young man,” he tried to reprimand, failing to illicit any kind of response, “I’m not pleased with how you’re trying to play your mother and I against each other,” Philip still wasn’t looking at him, his world existing in the bit of technology in his hand, “are you listening to anything I’m saying?”

“Uh huh.”

  
Alex sighed, feeling a bubbling anger start to creep to the surface, “get in the car.”

  
“Wait, where are we going?” he finally looked up, eyes slightly large with concern.

  
Alexander opened the driver’s side door and got in, starting up the car, “back to school.” Were they becoming that family that makes a scene in the McDonald’s parking lot? The one that’s been on a long car trip and everyone is cranky, because someone kept kicking the driver’s seat, and there are footprint marks on the ceiling somehow, and they thought there would be more food exits but there was only an open expanse of nothing… except that they haven’t been on a car trip and life is just a roller coaster in and of itself?

  
Philip slowly got into the passenger’s side and closed the door, “there’s like twenty minutes of school left.”

  
“So then use it to think about your sore attitude.”

  
Philip grumbled something under his breath, and then a moment later asked, “are you going to sign my test though?”

  
“Yes,” Alexander responded exasperatedly, “and then I’m going to call your mother.”

  
“Seriously?” It was an undignified protest, voice cracking slightly, and Philip slumped into his seat, staring daggers out the window. The ride back to school was made as unbearable as possible by the teenager in the car, Alexander cursed himself for being so stupid, so gullible, it got him into more trouble than he cared to think about, only this time he knew it was irresponsible to pick his kid up from school early and he knew it was probably going to end badly, but he went anyway. He decided to ignore the small, “I hate you,” that Philip muttered to his window, he pretended not to hear it, but it stabbed him in the heart nonetheless.

  
He quickly autographed the test in the car, and signed Philip back in at the office; the office lady didn’t bother a second look at them, maybe other parents took their kids out of school for twenty minutes at a time at the end of the day somewhat often enough for it not to be worth considering. Maybe, he told himself to not feel judged for being a bad father. Philip walked off to class with his late pass without saying another word to Alexander, just gave him a sly look and walked away. The rain came down a little heavier as he left the school, and he was happy to have his wool topcoat to keep him dry on the defeated walk back to the car where he sat and dialed Eliza’s number, knowing she wouldn’t pick up if she was busy and he could simply leave a message. Although she apparently was not busy, and after an awkward phone call in which he explained his disastrous parenting he was back at work, reading over some case for Aaron who insisted the painstakingly examine it for errors, silently willing the day to be over. It was his weekend this week, although Philip would almost certainly not be coming over, which wasn’t that unordinary to begin with, but he would want to make sure his father knew he was angry with him and Philip had all the power to do it having complete control over who he stayed with, and knowing the one thing his father wanted was for his children to like him and want to spend time with him.

  
At least he still had Angelica and Alex Jr., they still laughed at his dad jokes and obliged him with trips to the movies, they never complained that they ate pizza for dinner almost every night and had cereal for breakfast every morning. At least they didn’t blame him for all that was wrong in the world, or ask him for condoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this story is okay so far, I kind of have a rough outline for the next few chapters, but really I'm fumbling in the dark here and making it up as I go. If you want to suggest something in the comments that would be cool!


	3. Famous Last Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I happen to know of a party that’s going on basically here, not that far away, the girl throwing it… I mean she’s great at parties, so this is going to epic, don’t want to miss it, ya’ll in? I say it like this because she has an American southern accent.”
> 
> “I could go,” Philip blurted. 
> 
>  
> 
> Philip makes the first of a series of poor life choices.

Batter hissed as it was poured from a medium sized mixing bowl onto the thin layer of hot oil in the frying pan, slowly spreading into a nicely formed circle. After a few minutes, when small bubbles had risen to the top and the edges didn’t resemble batter anymore, a black spatula flipped a perfectly golden brown pancake to its other side, and finally onto a plate stacked with pancakes once it was done.

 

Ceramic plates clinked together as one was pulled from the cupboard, and set on the counter next to the larger serving plate, “Thanks dad,” Theodosia said as she grabbed a small stack of pancakes with a fork. They always had family breakfast and dinner, even now that their family was one member smaller. Mom used to make great pancakes, but Aaron had figured out how to do it when she got sick, sacrificing a few severely burnt pancakes (if you would call them that) to master the art making small flat cakes in a pan.

 

“No problem, sweetie.” One last pancake sizzled in the pan.  

 

Theodosia also scooped some bacon and fruit onto her plate, picking out the pieces of pineapple and throwing them back in the bowl. Pineapple was the one thing they would never agree on, particularly when it came to pizza, and now that the vote against the monstrosity was no longer two to one there was sometimes pineapple mixed with melon and grapes. She set her plate on the eat in island and grabbed another empty one from the cupboard, placing it near the adjacent stool, and went to the fridge to grab a glass of juice. “Really?”

 

“What?”

 

“They make pineapple juice?” her nose wrinkled at the thought.

 

Aaron laughed, “the grape juice is behind it.”

 

“You’re disgusting,” Theo joked, shaking her head lightly as she pulled the pineapple juice out of the way of what she was after. It was nice, the little rapport they had between them, something comforting when times were tough. You need to smile every day, mom would say, find something to laugh about even when life is running you over like a bus that is towing another bus.

 

Theo sat down on the stool, popping open the lid to the syrup as the last pancake was added to the tower of pancakes. Her father grabbed the plate she got him and served himself, deciding to stand on the other side of the island near the stove, like always, instead of sitting in the other stool. It was mom’s stool, and they used to all sit in their kitchen like this despite having a dining room, her two older half-brothers crowding around the island and quickly grabbing for seconds when they were home on school breaks. They would laugh and chat before starting the day, and get scolded halfheartedly for throwing grapes, and mostly only because they ended up on the floor where the dog ate them and grapes are bad for dogs. The memories here were all happy ones, or mostly happy ones; it was their home in D.C. where they saw the worst of her mother’s cancer, but she wouldn’t let anyone else suffer for it, she wouldn’t let Aaron resign as senator, she wouldn’t let Freddy or John leave college (despite their protests and assurance that it was only temporary), not for her sake.

 

“Oh, did you see this video?” she asked, still chewing food. Then, pulling out her phone, “I shared it on your Facebook page, this cat just drags the other one back into the carrier.”

 

“We’re not getting a cat.”

 

“Oh, come on, you don’t think I would show you a cute cat video to soften your heart and make you want a cat?” There’s a small smile sneaking its way onto her face as she feigns seriousness.

 

Aaron raised his eyebrows while taking a bite from a piece of bacon, “yes, I do.”

 

“Well, I plead the fifth.” She raised her raised her hands to shoulder height, faking innocence, phone in one hand fork in another.

 

“Mhm, that’s not going to save you.”

 

They both giggle a little, finishing up their breakfast. “Did you put your laptop in your school bag, and your lunch?”

 

“Dad.” He’s not supposed to ask if she packed everything in her bag, and she’s not supposed to check all the doors and windows anymore before they go to school, and he’s not allowed to check them either. That’s what Dr. Tallmadge said.

 

“Yeah, I know.” It had been a rough few years for both of them, and while Theo didn’t understand why it was suddenly so important that everything was in order, she knew he couldn’t leave the house without checking, sometimes for an hour, and she had seen the relief on her dad’s face when she offered to check everything for him, and so it became a habit. It had been a growing problem since mom passed, but it was getting better this past year now that Aaron was going to therapy.

 

Soon they collected their bags, all ready to face the day and, with some hesitation at the door, they got to the car and were on the way to school.

 

“Bye dad,” Theo said, getting out of the car, “I’m proud of you.” You wouldn’t know it, but it was a big deal to have left home trusting that the backdoor was still locked from last night.

 

Aaron smiled slightly, looking down at the empty passenger seat. He hated when Theo sounded more like a parent than him, he felt guilty about it. “Have a good day at school, I love you, and there is money in your student account if you need to buy lunch.”

 

“I love you too, dad, stop worrying,” she shut the door and waved goodbye, walking onto campus, looking for her group of friends who were always in the same spot every morning. It had rained a little yesterday, but today it was sunny with only white fluffy clouds in the sky. Thank God for Friday, what a great day of the week.

 

She spotted the gaggle of other seniors, plus that one freshman kid who acted like he was thirty, that she was looking for. Maybe her friends were boring to others her age, they cared about grades and school, they didn’t really play sports, unless you count mathletes or track and field… well running is a sport, but it’s not a popular-kid sport, like football. Then again, no one she knew in real life acted like people did in high school movies, so maybe her friends were just fine. She joined in the middle of some ongoing conversation.

 

“And she was screaming, ‘if you want your shoe back you’re going to have pry it from my cold dead hands!’” Stephen was waving his arm dramatically in front of him, pretending to be holding a shoe.

 

“No, no,” Nathalie laughed, “you are exaggerating, that is not quite how it happened. She didn’t _say_ anything; she just took my shoe into her witch cave.” She still had a slight French accent even after living here for five years.

 

Theodosia smiled. “Maybe don’t wear sandals next time?” She remembered the when they went ding-dong-ditching, prancing around the neighborhood like little scoundrels, digging deep into their pockets for quarters and dimes to buy candy from the ice cream truck, acting like middle schoolers despite being fifteen and sixteen year-olds at the time. As they were hiding in a small wooded area, after ringing the doorbell of some old woman’s house, the young French girl had remarked that her shoe had fallen off halfway down the driveway, and as they looked back they could only gasp in disbelief as the small sandal was carried away to the home that would become its graveyard.

 

Philip smiled at Theo when she spoke, noticing she had joined their little group, and wrapped a hand around her waist. She was glad to have moved back to Albany, happy that their lives seemed to chase each other around, from Albany to D.C and back to Albany. Spending a year apart, secretly Skyping… it had been hard.

 

“Did you get your shoe back?” Nathan asked, he was the lone freshman in their group of friends.

 

“No, never, I couldn’t.”

 

“How did you explain that to you parents?”

 

Nathalie laughed, “what, they don’t count my shoes.”

 

They stood around chatting, until the first bell was about to ring, and Philip walked her to first period like always, her arm around his and head resting on his shoulder. “I’ll see you at lunch, babe,” he quickly kissed the top of her head, making sure no teachers saw since PDA technically wasn’t allowed despite some tolerance for hand holding, except in front of principal Lee who was a stickler for the rules.

 

Theo waved to him, and sat though one class after another: Calculous II, then French V, then AP Government. At least she had Nathalie in government with her, they sat in the back, exchanging inside jokes about sandals, tuna salad, and slimy lettuce, as they read over some series of essays written in the eighteenth century under the scornful eye of their government teacher. They did take it seriously, it was interesting sometimes to learn about how a country was formed, especially when it essentially involved flipping some king the bird, but it was also kind of boring, people from the 18th century seemed to ramble on and on and on about points that appeared to already have been made.

 

Then finally it was lunch time, they were given another essay to read for homework, oh what joy, and were held until everyone had stopped talking and was sitting down before that spiteful Mr. Arnold finally dismissed the class. Theo and Nathalie walked to their lockers, stopping at Theo’s since it was the first one on the way towards the cafeteria. “Let’s sit outside today, it’s nice out.”

 

Nathalie nodded in agreement, and the two looked for a table containing the least amount of bird poop on its surface or seats, compromising on one with a medium amount of poop and a piece of gum with the saving grace of being in the shade. Before long their friends with the same lunch period had found them, Philip sat on Theo’s other side, sliding the tray of his school bought lunch closer to her so she could take her pick of his food, he always grabbed an extra grape juice box for her since fifth grade, and she left the top of her lunchbox open, inviting her friends to share her food as well.

 

They all finally got to hear the details of the fiasco that was yesterday, when Philip had walked into chemistry and practically thrown a late pass and failed exam on the teacher’s desk and sat in the back for the last ten minutes of class. At the time, he didn’t want to talk about it, and walked off to the bus without saying anything to anyone. Theo had to send Angelica after him to avoid missing her bus.

 

“I should have figured it wouldn’t work, he tells my mom everything its really kind of sad, like dude she left you for a reason.”

 

“Ouch,” Stephen commented, taking a bite of his sandwich.

 

Theo scooted a little closer, leaning comfortingly against her boyfriend. He was full of a lot of anger, it honestly wasn’t very healthy to hold so much resentment for someone, but it seemed Mr. Hamilton had this effect on people seeing as her father complained about him sometimes too, about office supplies left out of place and doors left unclosed, almost seemingly on purpose in an attempt to drive him mad, which Theo doubted.

 

“And now I’m grounded, and my mom is forcing me to stay at my Dad’s this weekend.”

 

Theo didn’t mind that, if Philip was at his dad’s she could still see him. The Washington’s watched her after school and on Saturdays, she was old enough to be home alone but her dad worried, and their house was close to Mr. Hamilton’s apartment complex and Philip would probably have no trouble getting out at his Dad’s even if he was grounded, but his mom’s would be like Fort Knox. “I’ll be just a short walk away,” she reminds him, noticing some tension leave his shoulders.

 

“Oh,” Stephen mentioned, taking note of how close Philip and Theo are, “did you ask about that other thing?”

 

“Dude, right now?” Philip stared at his best friend incredulously.

 

“Hey, a man has needs.” It’s said with a mouth full of sandwich and a smug wink.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, man.”

 

Nathalie winkles her eyebrows, and whispers to Theo, “boys are gross.” Whatever they were talking about, she didn’t want to know. “Okay, well I better start walking to class now, bye guys!” Nathalie stands, throwing away a collection of trash from the table, her next class was across campus and the social butterfly couldn’t walk twenty feet without bumping into someone and getting stuck in conversation with them.

 

Their next few classes they had together. Theo was happy because chemistry was boring but Philip always made it fun by drawing stupid doodles in the corners of his notes. Which is probably why he failed the test, because he didn’t really know anything and instead just drew a poor caricature of the teacher. Thankfully that bit was on the second page, and his dad didn’t flip through the test like his mother probably would have, since she had grown suspect to this sort of thing already.

 

They were supposed to be learning about oxidation-reduction reactions, labeling chemical equations which atom was reduced and which was oxidized, everyone in the room repeating OIL RIG (oxidation is loss, reduction is gain) in their heads to keep it all straight, and still probably messing it up because it’s confusing that the one that is reduced is actually gaining something, but since its gaining an electron with a negative charge its actually reducing its oxidation number, which is really a made up thing to begin with… But Theo sort of likes chemistry, not as much as humanities, but she’s good at chemistry too, and has a perfect GPA unlike her boyfriend who she suspects sometimes bombs a test here and there to gain the attention of one person in particular.

 

When the day is done Angelica finds them holding hands outside of Theo’s bus. She waits, busying herself in her phone and making gross faces at their cute couple-iness. “Dad’s here.”

 

“I’ll see you later?” she asks, mostly everyone else had gotten on their busses.

 

“I’m goanna try. He’s probably going to take my phone though so I’ll make Angelica text you.”

 

The younger sister shook her head, “don’t involve me in this.”

 

They said goodbye, and Theo turned to climb onto the buss, walking to the back looking for some empty seat, then watching out the window as Philip and Angelica walked to the parent pick up section. The sister sat in the passenger side seat and Philip in the back, Theo imagines him staring punitively at the driver’s seat as the busses begin to pull away.

 

She doesn’t have to watch trees and grass and cracked gray sidewalks for long, since her stop is the first one, and she stands up waiting in the backlog of kids who want to get off the humid and cramped bus. From there it is a short walk down the road to retired president Washington’s home, Theo’s second family and a strong source of comfort for Theo when her mother died. The First Lady had become something of a mother to her, but not in an encroaching way, but rather in a heartening manner. A few wooden steps lead onto the porch of the blue-gray house, and Theo nodded to the woman, Anna, sitting on a nice chair that was neatly arranged in the front of the house. She was used to them being around, they were there to keep the past president and his family safe, but it was also kind of unnerving to think someone might want to kill people she cared so deeply about.

 

Opening the door and stepping inside she caught a smell floating out of the kitchen. Cookies. Mrs. Washington was pulling a sheet out of the oven, while Theo spied the cooling rack with some treats already on it, and she reached her hand out to grab some.

 

“Those are hot, dear,” Martha chimed, closing the oven and truing around smile at the sixteen-year-old who was clutching a cookie or two in her hands.

 

“Thanks Martha.”

 

“Your welcome, and you can thank me by enjoying some of those cookies before George gets home and eats them all. He’s getting a little plump,” she chuckled, tossing the oven mitts onto the counter.

 

Theo helped Marth move some cookies from the baking sheet into the drying rack, taking note of some piping bags on the counter ready for decorating the cookies that have cooled. It was March 16, Harvard was starting spring break, and Mr. Washington had been in a state of rare enthusiasm looking forward to the roughly three-hour drive to Boston to pick up the son of one of his closest business friends, who was studying here in the US from France, and was also named George by no coincidence.

 

He had told Theo, in detail, about how he planned to leave at 6 am, wanting to get an early start on the day, and how he would take 1-90 East and take exit 18 on the left towards Cambridge. She really didn’t need to know, Theo had no plans of driving to Harvard, but Mr. Washington liked to have his route planned out and memorized, which wasn’t so hard since he had picked up the younger Georges many times for four day weekends, and fall, winter, spring, and summer breaks a few times before.

 

“What time are they getting here?”

 

Martha began to lay out some cookies for decorating, “well, they left Boston around noon, so I would imagine any time now, especially the way George drives.” She began humming as she artfully began to spell ‘Welcome Georges’ with one letter on each cookie, the s at the end was a French thing apparently, then upon further reflection she remarked, “he’ll give poor agent Brewster a heart attack, driving so fast, that poor man, Lord help him.”

 

Theo wasn’t so sure about giving Mr. Brewster a heart attack, he seemed the adrenaline junkie type to her. She helped decorate the cookies, gaining a jokingly disapproving shake of the head after drowning a cookie in frosting and deciding since it was _unfortunately_ ruined that she should just eat it now. Of course it was then, face and arms covered in frosting, that the door opened and the two women caught the end of some conversation muffled by the wall between them. There was the sound of luggage being dropped in the front hall.

 

“Ah, that would be the guest of honor,” Marth remarked, wiping her hands on her apron, as both Georges made their way into the kitchen, no doubt following the smell of freshly baked cookies, just as Theodosia had. “Uh, not so fast,” Marth swatted the senior George’s hand away as he reached towards the counter.

 

“Mrs. Washington, thank you, this is so kind I don’t have the words,” the young French college student was beaming, eyeing the display of baked goods as Martha embraced him in a warm hug, “I hope you don’t mind?” He asked.

 

“It’s great to have you,” Martha motioned toward the counter, urging him to take some.

 

The young man grabbed the G, so that the display now read ‘Welcome eorges.’

 

“And what about me, my dear, may I?” Mr. Washington dusted some flour off of his wife’s shoulder, wondering how it had gotten there.

 

Martha shook her head, “one, George, one cookie.”

 

“So, Georges, how’s Harvard?” Theo asked, moving to the sink to wash her hands, getting ambushed into a hug by the young Frenchman who seemingly didn’t care that she was covered in frosting or that he was still eating a cookie as he kissed each of her cheeks. It was a French thing… the cheek kissing, not the crumbling of cookie all over people.

 

“Oh, it’s fine,” he responded elusively, “lots of studying, you know.”

 

There was a knock on the front door as he was speaking.

 

“I’ll get it,” Theo escaped the hug, escaping down the hall into the sitting room with the front door, where Mr. Brewster was looking out the large window.

 

“Looks like Philip,” he noted, sitting down as Theo opened the door.

 

She beamed at him, “so you made it!”

 

“Barely.”

 

“Mmm! Philip!” Georges appeared in the hallway then, words horribly mangled by a mouth full of cookie and not helped by his thick accent.

 

“Oh, hey!” Everyone knew Georges, he was quite the little socialite.

 

Martha urged Mr. Washington down the hallway towards the interior of the house, muttering something about eating too many cookies and letting the kids catch up.

 

Georges hugged Philip too, greeting him in the same way.

 

“You’re eating a cookie,” Philip mentioned, trying to move his face away from the kisses.

 

“You want one?” He asked, evidently unaware of cookie crumbs on Philips face, or maybe he just didn’t care. That was a Georges thing.

 

Philip shook his head, pushing out of the embrace. “You’re too much man.”

 

“Hmm?” He pretended to pout, then, more heartily, “oh! Let’s walk around the neighborhood, I have so much to tell the both of you!” Shoving the rest of a second cookie in his mouth he grabbed both younger teens by the arm and rushed them out the door. They walked around for a couple hours, learning all about their friend’s escapades at Harvard, about some prank gone wrong, and one that went extremely right (involving replacing cologne with pee) just not for the guy getting pranked, about some professor who was a hard-ass an one professor that was astoundingly hot, about some cute girl who went to Tufts, and her cute boyfriend too, and more than they wanted to know about the private lives of almost adults, which they could find out for themselves in a year. There was a good mix of things they missed, because Georges was talking so fast, throwing in French words here and there, or maybe it was all English?

 

“Ah! And…” he spun around, placing a hand of both of his companion’s shoulders as they stood on the corner of Mr. Washington’s street, “I happen to know of a party that’s going on basically here, not that far away, the girl throwing it… I mean she’s great at parties, so this is going to epic, don’t want to miss it, ya’ll in? I say it like this because she has an American southern accent.”

 

“Oh, uh I don’t think I could go,” Theo mentioned, almost laughing at the butchered American accent. She needed a week’s notice at least, well _she_ didn’t really, but it took that long to convince her father of anything, he was always concerned with where she was and if she was okay, almost terrified she would drop dead at any moment it seemed. “It’s my dad,” she added when she saw a hint of protest in his eyes.

 

“Ahh, such the party pooper, non?”

 

“I could go,” Philip blurted. Theo looked over at him, he had that mischievous look in his eye, the one that lead to no good, similar to the one he had yesterday at lunch when him and Stephen hatched the plan to get his failed exam signed, and apparently accomplish something else as well, two birds with one stone they said. Theo figured it was a bad plan to begin with, but Philip protested that it was working while squinting at his phone.

 

“Are you sure that a good idea?” she asked him, voice hushed, as if there was someone around to hear the three of them.

 

“Yeah, babe, it’s fine,” Philip squeezed her hand, looking into her eyes.

 

“Oui, sweet baby, I will ta-”

 

“Georges, I know that you know English better than that,” Philip rolled his eyes, pulling Theo a bit closer.

 

“Well, I was only teasing you two, you are like married old people, you remind me of my parents, very much married,” he wrinkled his nose.

 

Theo watched a car drive by on the other side of the street, quickly letting go of Philip’s hand and putting some distance between them, “that’s my dad.”

 

George got an evil smirk on his face, “aahh, okay, less like my parents then. This is good, we can work with this.”

 

Theo was already heading down the street towards the Washington’s home as her father’s car parked on the street and the driver’s side door opened. He always went in for a moment to speak with the Washingtons and thank them for watching Theo. Today was no different, except that Georges was here, and he slipped back into his polished Harvard kid persona for the sake of the adults.

 

On the drive home Theodosia worried about Philip, he had a knack for getting into trouble, and a college party was definitely not the place for him to be right now. Pulling out her phone, she typed “be safe” adding a little kissing emoji. Her phone buzzed a few moments later.

 

 **Slimy** **Lettuce** **Piglet**

I won’t do anything stupid.

 

Famous last words.


	4. Alcohol and 8mm Film

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “do you go to Harvard too?” She had to practically shout her marginally slurred words.  
> Philip just nodded, swirling whatever was in his red solo cup. He wasn’t about to admit he was still in high school.  
> “That’s like… really hot.”   
> It wasn’t like him to get angry drunk, which is exactly what he planned on doing. He was going to drink until nothing else existed.

Georges and Philip waved goodbye from the porch as Theo got in the car to go home. It would be a few more hours spent lazily on the Washington’s porch, chatting with Georges about college, memes, and France, all while overhearing the quiet bickering between agents Strong and Brewster (something about women shooting guns?). Mr. and Mrs. Washington joined them on the porch at some point, with a nice cold pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade and a plate of cookies.

“Shouldn’t you be heading home soon, son?” Mr. Washington asked Philip while setting down his lemonade glass.

Glancing at the time of his phone (then exchanging a secret look with Georges) Philip nodded, “Yeah, I guess so.” He said goodbye to everyone, quickly exchanging hugs. But he wasn’t going back to his Dad’s place, he was never going back there, and especially not now after the argument they had just had before Philip stormed out of the apartment, something along the lines of ‘ _once I turn eighteen no one can force me to see you ever again_.’ Claiming he needed to cool off and take a walk, Philip up and left. In reality, he needed an excuse to get out and walk the few blocks to the Washington’s home to see Theo. Now, he was just biding his time with walks around the neighborhood, watching the sun go down and envelope the world in darkness, waiting for Georges to slip away.

His phone ringing startled him, having been lost in thought. It was Georges. “Hey.”

“Where did you go? I got Mr. Washington’s car, they think I’m going to see a friend who is flying out of state tomorrow.”

“I’m just up the road a bit, in front of house with the elaborate landscaping.” He saw car lights in the distance.

“Okay, I think I see you.” The line went silent as the phone was hung up and the windows of the car rolled down as the it approached, “hop in man,” Georges waved him over.

For about thirty minutes Philip watched streetlights pass by. Why was he here? Partying wasn’t exactly his thing, not that he hadn’t snuck out to quite a few and have to drag a drunk Stephen home, and maybe slightly less drunk Stephen dragged him home a few times, and he wasn’t a stranger to playing off a hangover as just a headache… but it wasn’t like him to get angry drunk, which is exactly what he planned on doing. He was going to drink until nothing else existed.

It was hard to miss where the party was, Philip could practically feel the earth shaking as they approached the place because the music was so loud. Already there were some plastered youths scattered about the front lawn, searching for some fresh air.

“Let’s get in before it gets shut down, no?” Georges manages to squeeze into a parking spot, he had some great parallel parking skills, hopefully no one hit Mr. Washington’s car trying to drive home drunk from this thing…

“Oh, how are we getting back?” Images of a drunk Georges trying to trying Mr. Washington’s car came to mind.

Georges looked at him, a realization dawning on his face, he hadn’t mentioned it, “I’m staying here tonight, my friend, I can call you a taxi when you need to go home.”

Philip looked around, it seemed like a bunch of people were going to be crashing here for the night, “no that’s cool, I can find somewhere on the floor or something to sleep.” He wasn’t going back there. His phone rang then, glancing down at it he hung up without answering, he didn’t want to talk to his dad so he turned on do not disturb. “Let’s go in, yeah?”

To say that Georges was a party animal was the understatement of the century. The kid was insane, and Philip recklessly tried to match him, downing this thing and that thing, anything handed to him. He hadn’t even heard of half of it, but down the hatch it went. Georges fluttered around the party, introducing Philip to all his friends, and at some point Philip lost track of him amongst the crowd and just mingled with the people he’s been left with. Some girl was leaning on him, she was wearing a revealing crop top and tight high-rise booty shorts, brown hair pulled loosely into a pony tail. She was rubbing Philip’s shoulder, other hand on his back, “do you go to Harvard too?” She had to practically shout her marginally slurred words.

Philip just nodded, swirling whatever was in his red solo cup. He wasn’t about to admit he was still in high school.

“That’s like… really hot.” The girl stumbled a little bit. It was clearly hard for her to speak, and Philip had to keep pushing her hands off of him.

“I have a girlfriend.” He had to repeat it over the loud music a few times.

“Well she’s not here is she?”

For some reason he found that funny, it wasn’t really funny, but he was laughing at it nonetheless. He should probably find this girl, he thinks Emily was her name, somewhere to sit, it would be the responsible thing to do. But he doesn’t want to be responsible, he wants to be so drunk he doesn’t even know what responsibility is, or what his own name is, and that’s how he ends up at 2 am on the second floor, learning against the banister as everyone is chanting for him to jump onto the sofa bellow. That’s when he feels a set of hands frantically pulling him down as someone sensibly drags him out to the front and sets him on the lawn. It’s Georges, it must be Georges.

“He has a phone, yeah?” It’s a girl’s voice.

Someone reaches in his pockets. “Hey, Philip, dude?” It’s Georges. “Is there someone I should call to pick you up?”

“I don’t think he understands anything you’re saying to him.” It’s the girl again.

In what feels like minutes, but was definitely much longer, maybe he fell asleep, two set of hands are helping him get up, and then he hurls into the sidewalk, someone makes sure he doesn’t vomit on his feet. They get him situated in the back seat of the car.

There are muted voices outside the car. “Thanks for calling me.” It’s uncle John, why was he here?

“I’m so sorry this happened.”

“I mean… I’ve done crazier shit.” There was an unmistakable chuckle. “He’s going to be fine, don’t worry about him.”

Then somehow he’s at home, uncle John and his dad are carrying him inside, and mom is telling Alex and Angelica to go back to bed, to stop staring down the stairs. He can’t tell if the adults are yelling at him or fighting with each other, or why everyone is over here in the first place?

 

…

 

In the morning everything is loud, and everything hurts… his head, his brain… it hurts to be a human, and it takes Philip a while to realize where he is. He fell asleep on the couch, not his room, which is strange, but maybe they were watching a movie… As he starts to move he notices something on his arm, a bright pink wrap with puppy paws on it, and out of that a tube hooked up to an IV. Was he dying?

“Good morning.” It’s mom, but it doesn’t sound like it’s a good morning.

For some reason he feels like a prisoner having a conversation with the warden. “What happened?” It’s probably not the best question to ask.

“John hooked you up to an IV after you scared the life out of me last night,” she seemed extremely disappointed.

Philip scrunched his face together, rubbing his eyes and temples. Why would uncle John be there? And why did he need an IV… “Isn’t he a veterinarian?”

“That’s why you got pink puppy paws, because you’re in the dog house young man.”

What?

Eliza continued, “Your grounded. For a week.” She pulled the blanket off him, and started to pull his legs from the couch.

“Hey!” He must have been hung over, it would justify the black out.

She placed a glass of water and some aspirin on the table in front of him. “Get up, you’re helping me clean the house.”

Oh no, not…

“No one has touched the hoarding room in a while.” They called it that because it became the family junk room, where they put all the things that have no other home. Over the past couple of years, it had only gotten worse in there, and gained the explanatory nickname.

“But I have this thing sticking in my arm,” Philip protested, waving the bandage around.

“Then go make John remove it, he’s upstairs in the guest bedroom with you father, you’ll have to wake him up. Have fun.” She didn’t sound like she wanted him to have fun at all.

Sighing, Philip took a few minutes to stand, and painfully walked up the stairs gripping the railing tightly in on hand the IV poll in the other. He made his way to the end of the hall, soft carpeting doing little to comfort his aching muscles, and opened the solid white door to the guest bedroom where the two men were fast asleep. In his attempt to be quiet and only wake up John, Philip tripped on the IV poll (how do you trip on something in the air you ask? Philip isn’t even sure) and the clanging caused the sleeping adults to stir. Alexander rolled over in the bed to face away from the noise, and John opened his eyes to look at the ceiling.

“Could you get this thing out of my arm?” Philip whispered.

“What?” John looked over at him, momentarily confused, “Oh that’s right.” As he sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed Alexander groaned quietly in protest of the commotion, burying his face in the pillow.

John took the IV poll as they exited the room into the hallway, shutting the guest bedroom door softly behind them. Philip asked, “are you even allowed to put an IV in my arm?”

“Well, not legally no.” They went into the bathroom directly across the hall, Philip sat on the closed toilet lid while John washed his hands and then pulled a case out from behind the door, he must have put it there last night. He collected a pair of non-sterile gloves and some gauze. Kneeling in front of the teenager, he removed the bandage and the IV, and placed a band aid over its place. “Keep this on for a day, okay?”

“Whatever.”

“Hey,” John grabbed him by the upper arm as Philip was trying to stand to leave the room, “You scared the shit out of your parents, okay?”

He looked at the floor.

“Seriously, your dad called me panicked half to death, I had to calm him down and bring everyone over here, then they were calling everyone you know, and pacing around… Mr. and Mrs. Washington were driving around looking for you, they felt responsible… They almost called the police, kid. We thought you ran away or something, but then Georges called the Washington’s, who called us, he said you were going to jump off the second floor or something? I figured I was the sanest person to drive and get you, so you didn’t end up murdered in a ditch somewhere.”

“Well I didn’t run away, or jump off of anything.” He truly didn’t remember that at all, but it could explain why his body felt broken.

“I did some irrational things when I was about your age, some really not safe things, so I’m not here to try and lecture you, your parents are going to do enough of that. I get it, I do, but just…” There was a genuine look of concern in his eyes, “if you ever need someone to talk to, or someone to pick you up if this happens again, I’m here, okay? And you don’t need to be going all over the place looking for alcohol or drugs. I probably shouldn’t say this but I’ve got you covered dude, and my place is only one floor so you won’t fall from the second story on a trip, just maybe avoid the torture dungeon in the basement, eh.” That was a joke. Probably. “And you know, this is between you and me.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

John half-smiled, standing up and reorganizing everything in the little medical case he brought.

“But you had to use pink dog paws?” Philip looked at the discarded bandage in the trash.

“I’m a vet, I don’t usually have to listen to my patients complain about the color of their bandages.”

“Should I just bite you then?”

“Please don’t, that’s why I’m not a dentist.”

Joking around was a momentary relief before the day that was to come, trying to organize a few years worth of clutter built up in the small side room, avoiding dad whenever he woke up. It was weird, him being here, and Philip didn’t want to admit to himself that deep down he hoped his parents would get back together.

John had to go into work, some emergency case had come in, so he didn’t stay for very long. Philip helped him get the IV poll back in his car and watched him drive away to avid cleaning for as long as he could before Eliza wrangled him into the room to start shredding old documents and looking through musty old cardboard boxes. A few hours ticked by, Alex and Angelica had made themselves some breakfast, expertly avoiding being dragged into the cleaning frenzy. Soon it was almost noon, and dad still hadn’t woken up.

“You’re just going to let dad sleep all day?”

“I’m not his keeper.” She continued setting aside boxes of papers to be sorted and shredded. “Oh, wow…” Eliza muttered, giggling a bit while opening a box that had been buried in the back of the room. She stepped out and called up the stairs, “kids, come see what I found!”

Alex and Angelica slowly emerged from their rooms, poking their heads around the top of the stairwell. Philip walked over to look inside the box. It was filled with a bunch of tapes, presumably filled with home movies.

“What is it mom?” Angelica asked.

“I found some old VHS tapes, your grandfather had an old 8mm camera and he gave it to me when I went to college... I mean it was old by the time I went to college in the 90’s.” She was quiet for a while, lost in thought, “My friends and I liked to make funny videos with it, there’s no sound though. Your grandma had them all converted to VHS, I suppose I should have them converted onto DVD.”

“Wait so there’s like video of you in college in there?” Angelica and Alex made it down the stairs to peer inside the box and Philip pulled it out into the family room.

“Wow, this is huge,” Alex mentioned, picking up one of the tapes.

“Oh don’t make me feel old.” Mom waved her hands frantically. “I wasn’t old until I met you,” she pointed at their father as he sleepily made his way down the stairs, “then you made me old.”

“I won’t ask what an 8mm camera is then,” Alex Jr. said mostly to himself.

Eliza turned back into the junk room, “I swear we still have a VHS player in here. Philip help me find it.”

Philip helped his mother look through the stacks of paper and old bins and boxes, “I don’t even know what that looks like.”

“Um,” she thought of the best way to explain it, “well it looks like retro DVD player, and if I remember correctly it’s silver.”

He could hear Alexander going through the box of tapes with Angelica and Alex, answering their questions about the black ribbon thing inside the plastic box, “ _no that whole thing is basically like a DVD, it’s not a case for it._ ”

Philip knew exactly where the VHS player was, he had wondered what that thing was and assumed it was some old gaming system because it was so large, “oh, that thing?” He moved some junk out of the way.

“Hmm?” Eliza turned around, holding a few boxes, “yes! That thing!”

They spent about twenty minutes hooking it up to the TV. It wasn’t particularly easy because first they had to pull the TV away from the wall, and when Eliza saw how dusty it was she made Philip clean it while she and Alexander tried get all the wires figured out and had a minor disagreement over whether or not they could even plug it into a newer device. As it turned out they could, but they needed to remove the connections to the DVD player because there weren’t enough spaces. The manufacturers probably assumed you wouldn’t need two DVD players for the same TV.

To Philip it felt almost like Christmas, everyone was still in their pajamas and sleepy (although it was because they hadn’t fallen asleep until 4 am, or in Angelica and Alex’s case it was because they were lazy teenagers), and the family was trying to figure out how to work some new thing, only it was an old thing. They all fell into a sort of comfortable familiarity with each other that hadn’t seemed to be present in a while.

“Oh, finally,” Eliza remarked as she pushed a tape into the contraption and images appeared on the screen, “it’s in the middle, we have to rewind.”

“You can’t go to the menu?” Alex asked.

The adults in the room looked like they died a bit on the inside, “no, that doesn’t exist on VHS.” Eliza clicked some buttons and the tape started to play quickly in reverse, making the noise of an airplane taking off (just much quieter than a real plane). When it reached the end they heard a sharp click, and Eliza hit play.

“Okay, this one is mostly old family movies on here, that one is me, and there’s aunt Angelica, and aunt Peggy’s foot is right there.” They all sat on the floor in front of the misaligned TV as she pointed at the two girls (and the piece of a third girl) on the screen in winter pajamas, sitting under an elaborately decorated Christmas tree, opening presents. They watched as mom pointed everyone out, some people they didn’t know, others they laughed at how different they looked now. The old people always paused when the camera was pointed at them expecting a photograph not a video.

Angelica hardly seemed to believe any of the people on the film were actually people she knew, “how is your hair so... puffy?”

“I had a perm, it was the 80’s.”

When that tape was done and they had seen a few holidays, birthdays, graduations, etc. then Alexander handed Eliza another tape, “this one is more interesting,” dad noted, Eliza rolled her eyes at him, “we tried to make music videos but we had to cut the film and tape it back together to make different scenes because it wasn’t digital. There was no music on the original but the guy who converted these to VHS put the music in for us, so now they are actually music videos.” Their kids probably didn't know what film was, all of them being born after 2000, all of them being iGen. To be fair, the 8mm camera was old even in the 90’s, most people would have just used a camcorder.

They all laughed as Eliza tried to give context behind some of the videos, it was mostly her and her girlfriends running around Columbia University in ridiculous clothing and hairstyles. “Ah!” she hit pause and pointed at the screen, “do you know who that is?”

All three children squinted at the vaguely familiar face clad in an oversized denim jacket on top of a baggy graphic band tee tucked into unfortunately high waited jeans.

Angelica decided to take a stab at it. “Is that uncle John?”

“Yes,” Alexander smirked as he took a picture of the screen, probably sending it to John at that moment.

Philip looked closer, “there's no way.”

“Oh no. That’s John Laurens for sure,” their mother confirmed again.

“Why don’t any of your clothes fit you right?” Alex asked.

“I’m sorry, we didn't have super skinny jeans,” Eliza made a teasing face at the teenagers gathered around her on the floor, sticking her tongue out at Alex, who responded the same way.

Eliza hit play again, and they watched as everyone horribly lip synced the song, or perhaps they actually sang it at the time and it was a blessing 8mm film could not record sound. In the next scene they were at a party, dancing around like chinchillas overdosing on caffeine, “oh maybe this one isn’t appropriate,” She reached for the fast forward button as the underage drinking became more apparent.

“And you’re disappointed with me?” Philip protested, covering the controls with his hand, “I wasn’t even that drunk.” They watch as nineteen-year-old Eliza is dancing all up on some guy.

“Is that Dad!” Angelica rushed closer to the screen and Alex looked up from the phone that had been briefly occupying him, Philip just felt more disappointed.

“Okay, I think it’s time to watch a different one,” Eliza looked her eldest son in the eye, her voice has a small edge to it, urging Philip to have this conversation latter as the song ended and the room grew quieter.

“Um, this one got weirder.”

Philip and Eliza both looked at the screen, and Philip dropped his hand from the VHS player. “Oh god,” was all Eliza choked out.

Mortified, Alexander hit the eject button, but it wasn’t fast enough. All three kids now had the image of their dad in track shorts (which are shorter than they have a right to be) stretching before a meet, rear end conveniently facing towards the bleachers where their mother must have been standing with her camera.

Eliza’s face turned red, but not as red as her ex-husbands. “I forgot that was on here.” It might have been a kind of apology to all those present in the room.

“I don’t think I want to know what else is on these,” Philip shook his head at the horror.

“Oh, like you don’t stare at good looking people,” Eliza teased.

Alex stood up, “well, I’m out.”

“Same.” Angelica followed him up the stairs, they were almost stepping on each other to get out of the room.

With that, Philip was alone in a room with both his parents… two parents who remembered how upset they were with him.


End file.
